


Golden

by Skylark42



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Kinda, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark42/pseuds/Skylark42
Summary: Jaskier makes a deal with a powerful being for youth and immortality.  All he has to do is get his true love, Geralt, to give him true love's kiss before the end of 3 days.  The catch?  He doesn't have his voice.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I blatantly stole this plot from the Little Mermaid and I regret nothing.

Jaskier has always loved the sea.

Since he was a small boy traveling to visit with his family, it's always calmed him, brought him peace. It's where he goes after the mountain, to recover and move on. It's a small fishing village he finds himself in, not like the bustling cities near the coast from his youth. No, here the locals have fear and reverence for the sea, and for those things that dwell in it.

Locals say there is a sea witch living in a cave by the sea. There on the coast are jagged rocks, remnants of mountains long since eroded by the water. They form small cliffs, a sort of cluster of tiny mountains, if they can be called such. The tide has to be low to find passage to the cave, otherwise it is lost beneath the sea. Legend has it that inside a creature lives, a sea witch. Some say she is a sea goddess from another time no longer worshiped, others say is a mermaid cursed to live on land as punishment for practicing witchcraft. None of the rumors can agree exactly what she is, but they do all agree on one thing—visit the sea witch and bring her an offering and she'll grant you a wish.

Jaskier isn't silly enough to believe in such nonsense, but thinks it'll make for a nice song. He goes to visit the cave for that reason alone. He needs some new material, now that he isn't traveling with Geralt anymore.

The inside of the cave is damp and dank and dark. Expected, really, for a place that spends more time underwater than above. What is unexpected is that there is a woman inside. She's dressed in rags and sea weed is tangled in her hair, her skin pale and near translucent.

Jaskier immediately goes to assist her, only to realize that this woman isn't what she seems. The sea weed is her hair, and her mouth is full of sharp, pointed teeth, her fingernails are long, jagged claws. She really does seem like a sea witch.

“What have you brought to me?” she hisses, her voice wet and cold. It makes him think of drowning.

“Er, I can sing you a song.”

She rises to her feet—webbed things more like fins than human feet. Her eyes are solid black, dark like the depths of the ocean. They fix on him eerily without blinking. “And what do you wish?”

Jaskier isn't sure where to go here. There are many things he wants. But none seem worth making a deal with a sea witch. All he really wants is to be by Geralt's side again, to stay there with him forever.

“You love a man. A man with a monster inside. You want to be with him.”

Oh, she can read thoughts. Lovely. Jaskier hates when the monsters can do that. Usually Geralt would save him by now, so he's not sure what to do. She doesn't seem violent, this creature, though she is decidedly inhuman. “Yes, well, he doesn't love me back, so no point bringing it up.”

She tilts her head to the side, further than a human could bend their neck. “What if I could give you what you want? You and him, together, forever.”

“Weren't you listening? He doesn't want me.”

She smiles, a horrific thing. “Fools don't know what they want. They do not appreciate what they have until it is lost.”

Jaskier's heart tugs in his chest. “You're saying Geralt misses me?”

“His heart aches.”

It would be stupid to listen to her. A creature, a monster, something dangerous and deadly. Geralt would scold him for trusting her. But Geralt is not here. “How could we be together?”

“I can give you life, as long as his. Youth. Longevity. More years to spend beside him.”

The idea is tempting, so tempting. But he doesn't even know where Geralt is.

“I can take you to him.”

He really hates monsters that read thoughts.

The witch steps closer. She smells of salt and brine and death. “I can give you all you desire...for a cost.”

There it is. The fine print. The part where he discovers she wants to devour his first born child or bind his soul or something terrible. He should walk away. He should leave this place and not look back.

“What cost?” (He's never been good at doing what he should.)

“Your soul...if you fail.”

“If I fail?”

The creature smiles, wicked and horrible. “You want to be with your love, so you will. You'll have him love you back. A kiss is all it will take. A kiss and you can be beside him forever.”

Jaskier feels a knot in his stomach. “That's all? I have to kiss him?”

“He has to kiss you within three days.”

It seems too easy. Allhe has to do is tell Geralt and Geralt will kiss him to save him. “What's the catch?”

“I'll need something from you. Collateral on our deal.”

A cold, sinking feeling blooms in Jaskier's chest. Everything in him is saying this is a bad idea, and he should run away. But if it's his chance to be with Geralt, really be with him, without any excuses then he has to take it, doesn't he? “What do you want?”

“Your voice.”

His voice? But how would be tell Geralt how he felt? How would he express himself without his words, his songs, his voice? He talks, it is what he does. Geralt often says he talks too much. “But how can I-”

“Actions speak louder than words, no?” she says, circling around him. “You have your hands, your pretty face. Do you want your man or no?”

Once there had been a conversation when Jaskier was young, a heartfelt confession wrenched out by youth and emotion and too much drink. Geralt had told him witchers and humans couldn't be together, that it didn't work. He said to love him would be to watch him die. But if he has this, he has no reason to deny him. He only has to make Geralt see that he loves him. And Geralt does love him, even if he's never said it. He's shown it in a thousand different little ways. So if Geralt can say it without words, without even meaning to, Jaskier can as well. It won't be easy, but he can do this.

“Yes, I want him.”

The witch held out her hand, long fingers wet like the sea. “Then we have a deal?”

Jaskier took her hand and shook it. “We have a deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier finds Geralt and we get a flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I totally forgot to mark this as a multi-chapter fic. Sorry for any confusion that caused.

The portal takes him to a small clearing in a forest, the sea witch shoving him through without so much telling him what side of the continent he's on. It's dark here, the moon only a sliver in the sky and thick clouds cover any stars. Jaskier takes a step and a twig snaps. The next thing he knows his back is against a tree and a knife is at his throat.

“Jaskier?”

Geralt lowers the knife, looking confused. But of course, he thought Jaskier was somewhere else far away. He looks as beautiful as Jaskier remembers, his eyes the same golden yellow, catching the faint light and seeming to glow. Jaskier tries to say his name back, but nothing comes out. He reaches a hand to his throat and feels a surge of panic. The reality of what he has done crashes in. Three days, it's only three days, he'll survive.

There are things unsaid between them, things both need to say. Jaskier can't speak them, but Geralt could. After the mountain, he feels he's owed an apology. It's been weeks since then and he's heard nothing from Geralt. The old anger wells up, the hurt. This is the man he loves, this emotionally clogged bastard who lashes out at him instead of dealing with his anger.

“What's happened to your voice?”

As if he can answer that without his voice. Jaskier mouths the word 'witch' and hopes Geralt understands.

Geralt's expression hardens instantly. “Where is she?”

Jaskier shakes his head. Geralt sighs and takes Jaskier's pack off his arm. He rummages through and finds a bit of parchment and a quill and shoves them toward Jaskier. “Explain, bard.”

He shoves Geralt's shoulder to turn him round so he can use his broad back as a writing board. Geralt's witcher eyes may be able to read in the dark, but Jaskier's can barely see to write. He manages a few short phrases. _Sea witch? Made deal. Lost voice. Three days._

Geralt gives him a thunderous look. “You made a deal with a witch?”

Jaskier opens his hands and shrugs. He isn't entirely sure what the creature was. Geralt's got his scary face on, the one that's never scared Jaskier, even when it should. “How could you do something so stupid?”

Jaskier thinks he'll need a bit more parchment and a proper light to explain that. Geralt would only be mad if he knew. He'd hate that Jaskier was risking his soul to be with him. Especially considering that he'd told Jaskier to leave, in not so many words.

Geralt swears under his breath. “What did she promise you? Fame? Fortune?”

Jaskier has enough of both those already. His songs have made him infamous and he's got coin enough to travel alongside Geralt and keep a full belly and warm bed. Jaskier rolls his eyes impatiently and scribbles a word down on the paper. _Youth._

“Dammit, Jaskier,” Geralt all but snarls and glares at him. Jaskier wonders if he remembers that talk from so long ago, that night that Geralt told him witchers and humans couldn't be together.

It had only been a few months since Posada, and Geralt was only grudgingly letting Jaskier come along with him. Or Jaskier refused to leave and Geralt tolerated him. Either one. It had been raining in torrents, the sort of rain that drenched you to the bone and made it difficult to see. Roach had been miserable, and Jaskier just as miserable walking beside her. When they spotted the village they stopped, even though they hadn't got as far as Geralt would have liked. They had been tracking a nest of vampires he suspected were nesting in the nearby mountains.

The rain had other travelers stopping by the inn, and the clerk had told him there was only one room left, with just the one bed. Jaskier hadn't minded in the slightest. If Geralt was bothered he had showed no signs. The tavern was full of dripping patrons, and Jaskier tested out 'Toss a Coin to Your Witcher' on them. They had loved it, and before long he had a belly full of food, that, if not good, at least was not cooked on a stick over a fire. He'd had a fair share of ale and it left him warm and bold.

When it was time to sleep, he slipped inside the covers beside Geralt and then crawled into his lap and kissed him. Geralt's hands had came to his waist and held him and for a moment, just a moment, Jaskier thought he was going to kiss him back. Instead he had gently dislodged him and pushed him to his own side of the bed.

Jaskier had been confused, but his pride wasn't hurt. Maybe he had been too young, or too cocky, but instead of hurt feelings or remorse all he said was “Why? Is it because I'm a man?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

Geralt's eyes had met his, and though he seemed exasperated, something in them almost seemed fond as well. “Because you're human.”

“So are the whores at the brothels you visit,” Jaskier said, because it was true.

Geralt almost smiled. “I can leave the whores. I'm stuck with you.”

He sounded resigned to the fact, but Jaskier could tell he was secretly pleased. No one really liked to be alone. “Afraid you'll fall madly in love with me?”

Geralt's mouth crooked up in a smile. “No need for fear there.”

Jaskier had a sudden thought. “You're afraid I'll fall in love with you.”

Geralt didn't agree, but he didn't deny it either. “Humans and witchers don't mix. To love you would be to watch you die. I could never grow old with you, build a life with you.”

Jaskier didn't want those things anyway. He was too young to think about a future past the night. But looking back, Jaskier can see Geralt saw more than he did, saw the way he looked at him, the boyhood crush that could teeter into love any moment.

“So what, you're destined to die alone? That's sad, Geralt.”

“It's the way.”

And that had been that.

Now, remembering it Jaskier realizes Geralt had to be waiting for him to make a move, how obvious he must have been. He wonders if he's as obvious now. Was he in love with Geralt, even back then? More importantly, did Geralt love him back?

“What did it cost?” Geralt demands.

Jaskier gestures at his throat. There's no point in telling Geralt he's risking his very soul, he'd only want to track the witch down and that would ruin everything. He expects Geralt to make some joke about finally having silence, but he doesn't. Instead he's quiet for a long minute and says softly, “It's good to see you again.”

Which in Geralt speak means 'I'm sorry'. Jaskier will take it for now. One day, they'll have an actual talk about what he said, and if he means any of it. If he truly blames Jaskier for his decisions. But not tonight.

“There's a village a few hours ahead. We'll visit their healer in the morning.”

Jaskier nods. He doubts a healer can do anything for his voice, and Geralt likely knows it. Still, he appreciates the gesture. Geralt motions him and he follows behind him to Geralt's camp. His bedroll is on the ground and Roach is tied to a tree. She doesn't seem particularly surprised to see Jaskier, nor to care much that he's there.

Jaskier had only brought his lute and some parchment to visit the sea witch, intending only to see the cave and jot down some notes about the creature's lair. He has no clothes, no food, no bedroll, nothing on him but his lute and some spare paper. Geralt must notices because he sighs and pulls his blanket up, gesturing for Jaskier to crawl in beside him.

It will be torture, sharing a bedroll with him, having him so close. It's another fresh level of hell, but Jaskier embraces the opportunity. He wishes he could say goodnight, or make some joke, ramble off some story until Geralt falls asleep. Without words to distract him, he is too aware of Geralt's presence.

The silence hangs heavy between them and after a long, long while, Jaskier falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to have the next chapter out by Wednesday. I'd love to hear any thoughts you had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Geralt visit a healer, Jaskier takes matters into his own hands but it doesn't go as planned

Jaskier wakes half on top of Geralt, with an arm warm around his waist. Geralt still sleeps, looking more peaceful than he ever has awake. Jaskier should wake him, but he wants to bask in the feeling a bit longer, the comfort of being in Geralt's arms. He's longed for just this feeling for years, surely a moment's indulgence won't hurt anything.

He feels Geralt start to wake, and would fake being asleep for a few more minutes of closeness, if Geralt's witcher senses wouldn't tell him he was awake. There's a softness to Geralt's eyes when he first wakes and when he notices their position, he doesn't immediately push Jaskier away. He does untangle their limbs and sit up, and Jaskier misses the proximity as soon as its gone.

They walk toward the village in silence, and Jaskier longs for his voice to fill it. Usually, he'd be chattering away while Geralt occasionally grunts a reply, but now it's too quiet. By the time they reach the village, Jaskier already has a plan. He'll simply write down that Geralt needs to kiss him, and Geralt will. They'll probably argue about it, but Jaskier still has plenty to say to Geralt from the mountain, so a fight is on the horizon anyway.

The village is small, only a cluster of houses with a few chickens running about. Small children run about the single dirt road running through the town. One of them spots Jaskier's lute and dashes up to them, a redhead boy of about seven or eight and says excitedly “Are you here to play for the festival?”

Jaskier shoots Geralt an imploring look. Geralt says stiffly “He's mute.”

The boy scrunches his freckled nose and peers up at Geralt without fear. It's likely he's never seen a witcher. In a village this small, he's probably rarely seen bards either. “Then why's he got a lute?”

“Family heirloom.”

The boy raises a skeptical brow, but shrugs. “Alright. Can I play it?”

Jaskier shakes his head minutely, hoping Geralt will not choose this time to be a bastard. His lute is precious, and he doesn't want this child snapping his strings. “No,” Geralt says gruffly. The boy frowns. “Does this town have a healer?”

The boy perks up again. “Oh yeah, my sister Misty. She knows magic. Maybe she can fix your friend so he's not a mute.”

The boy, whose name is Frank, as he tells them, leads them to the healer's. There isn't a proper healer's office set up, it's run out of a small cottage. The healer lives there with Frank. Geralt recognizes some of the herbs growing outside in the garden. Frank rattles on about how he helps water them and pluck out the weeds, and tells them very seriously that he is Misty's assistant. He swings the door open and inside is a woman in a worn dress with wild red curls spilling around her shoulders. She's covered in freckles and has dark rings around her brown eyes. The resemblance to Frank is uncanny.

“Frank, who is this? What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”

Frank takes an imperious tone. “They're patients, I brought them here to be treated.”

“Oh, what's the matter?” Misty says, all business at once.

Before Geralt can speak, Frank points at Jaskier and says “He's a mute.”

Misty looks scandalized, then embarrassed. “You can't just go around announcing things like that. Go to the kitchen and put on some tea.” She looks over to Jaskier and Geralt. “Sorry about that, he means well.”

She leads them into a tiny kitchen, shelves stuffed with various potions and concoctions. The table is covered in books, some of them Geralt recognizes as spell books. A witch then, but from the looks, a harmless one. There were plenty of healers who dabbled in magic to help with their craft. She directs Jaskier to sit and begins prodding at him. “No fever, that's good. Open up, yeah?

Jaskier does as instructed and she peers down his throat. “Looks normal, no redness, no infection or scarring. Was he born a mute?”

“He was cursed by a witch.”

Misty nods thoughtfully, unfazed. “Well, there's no signs of the normal causes. I can try to remove the curse, but I'm not a properly trained mage. I mostly dabble.”

Frank pops back with a tray carrying cups of tea. He shoves some of the books to the floor to make room and sits it down. He hands a cup to Geralt and one to Jaskier. “I added honey, for your throat.”

Jaskier's throat feels fine, but it's a nice gesture. Misty sighs and shoos Frank off. “Go tend the garden and let me work.”

She watches Frank go out then turns back to Jaskier. “Alright, let's get a feel for this curse.”

She places her hands over Jaskier's temples and takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and inhales slowly. Jaskier feels a trickle of something, a light buzz in his head. Misty gasps and drops her hands. Geralt steps closer. “What is it?”

Misty looks at Jaskier with wide eyes. “That's powerful magic. I don't think I can remove it.”

“You can try."

Misty shakes her head. “No, it feels...tangled. Bound to him. I think if I try to remove it, it might hurt him.”

“There's nothing you can do?”

Misty casts an apologetic look to Geralt. “Unless you can get the one who cast the curse to remove it, your friend is stuck this way.”

It's disheartening to hear, but it's what Jaskier expected. He stands and looks to Geralt. Geralt looks slightly comical, looming there in his armor with a tiny pastel pink tea cup in his hands. He sets it down on the counter behind him. “Right then, we'll be going.”

They trudge along in low spirits until Jaskier spots the tavern. Most of the time he'll play a few songs to earn some coin, but that won't happen now. He misses his voice terribly, misses being able to communicate. Geralt will simply have to pay for their room with his coin, or they'll be stuck camping out again.

Like most towns, the tavern serves as the inn. There's a robust woman with dark hair and olive skin at the bar, though at this time it's mostly empty. She narrows her eyes when she spots them. She doesn't seem pleased to see a witcher, though that's not uncommon. “Aye, what can I do for you?”

She directs the question to Jaskier. A lot of people direct their questions to him instead of Geralt, as he's less intimidating and generally has more words in his vocabulary. Jaskier wonders how Geralt will fare, having to do all his own talking. Not well, if his reputation before Jaskier is anything to go on.

“He's mute.”

The woman looks embarrassed. “Apologies, I didn't know.” Her gaze softens somewhat, as if Geralt caring for a mute makes him less scary. “You'll be needing a room then?”

The room she shows them has two beds, to Jaskier's disappointment. It's a small, bare room with only the beds and a small table between them with a candle. There's a table along one wall with two chairs, though it's bowed with age and one leg is shorter than the others. Jaskier goes to it immediately and pulls out his quill and paper.

He wants to write down exactly what happened, but he figures the direct approach is best. So all he writes is _kiss me._ Or, it's what he tries to write, but the words won't form on the paper. He tries another quill, but it's the same. He changes to a different ink, but nothing happens. His hand cramps horribly when he attempts to write again and he drops the quill and winces in pain.

Geralt is next to him in seconds. “What's wrong?”

He looks at the parchment, then back to Jaskier. “This must be part of the curse.”

That's cheating. The sea witch never said he wouldn't be able to write. He wrote before, so it must be only stopping him from telling how to break the curse. And he thought this would be easy. Well, if he can't tell Geralt what he needs, he'll take the direct approach.

Jaskier grips Geralt by the leather armor and lunges forward, smashing their mouths together. Geralt is startled enough to grip him by the waist, to part his mouth in a gasp. Jaskier kisses him like his life depends on it, because it kinda does. But as much as he wants Geralt to kiss him back, Geralt doesn't. He pushes Jaskier away, confused. “What are you doing?”

Jaskier means to answer back, but the words won't come. He doesn't understand. He kissed Geralt, the curse should be broken. But that's not what the sea witch said was it? She had said 'he has to kiss you'. Jaskier has only been waiting two decades for Geralt to kiss him, so he doesn't know how he's meant to convince him to do so within three days.

He is well and truly fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

The one good thing about not having a voice is he won't have to explain himself to Geralt. Geralt, who is looking at him with a bewildered expression on his face, as if he can't for the life of him work out why someone would kiss him. Why Jaskier would kiss him. But he's a smart man, much as he likes to play the part of a dumb brute. He'll figure it out. He'll come to the right conclusion and kiss him.

A scream tears through the silence and seconds later the door flies open. “Witcher, help, there's a monster in the street.” It's the barmaid from before, the one who seemed displeased to have a witcher stay at her inn, though she certainly seemed glad to have him now.

Geralt leaves and Jaskier follows. In the street there is a selkiemore, though only a very young one from the size of it. It's only as tall as the average human, but it's teeth are long and sharp and capable of tearing human flesh to pieces.

Selkiemore are supposed to live near bodies of water. They feed on plankton, not people. They'd eat a human if they came upon one, but they didn't actively hunt them. Why one is in town is a mystery.

But there is no time to ponder why a selkiemore was on land, the creature had a woman backed up against a building, teeth snapping at her. The woman shrieks, crying out for help. Geralt shoves Jaskier back towards the inn, snapping at him to stay back and ran out to face the monster. He has his sword in hand and slices it's head clean off before it sees him coming. The easiest selkiemore he'd ever faced, most like. Usually, they'd have to be gutted from the inside, and the smell lingered for days. He runs his sword through its gut just to be sure.

The stench hits him and some of the villagers hiding nearby gag. The woman kneeling down by the building doesn't, she peers up at Geralt through her hands, tears streaking her face. Geralt offers a hand to help her stand. Now that he could see her face, he could see she is really quite pretty, long, dark hair falling in waves to her waist and eyes the color of the sea. She grips his hand tight and looks up at him with adoring eyes. “You saved me.”

Jaskier frowns. He doesn't like this. Ordinarily, he'd be fine with Geralt getting a bit of gratitude from the people he's saved, even if that gratitude extended to the bedroom. But he's on a time crunch here, he doesn't have time for competition.

Geralt looks uncomfortable as he takes back his hand. “It's my job.”

The woman's eyes change, flash from sea green to black and she whispers words in a language Jaskier cannot understand. But that voice is familiar, deadly familiar. He remembers it from the cave, remembers its horrible sound. He wants to cry out to Geralt, but he can't and it's too late, whatever spell she's spoken has taken hold of him. Something in his posture changes, less rigid than before as he leans in toward her. They speak softly and Jaskier cannot hear what they say, but it doesn't matter. He's seen that look in Geralt's eye before, usually directed toward Yennefer. He's completely besotted—or rather, bewitched—by this woman.

Geralt holds her hand—he holds her hand—and leads her over to Jaskier. He's so obviously under a spell that Jaskier wants to shake him, scream at him to snap out of it. He doesn't, obviously. Thanks to the sea witch.

“Jaskier, this is Doris.”

Doris extends a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Jaskier doesn't take the hand. Geralt frowns at him. Jaskier silently seethes. “He's mute.”

Doris makes a concerned face. “Oh, how unfortunate. How did that happen?”

“He made a deal with a witch,” Geralt says, as if it's knowledge to be freely shared.

Doris slides her gaze to Jaskier and meets his eyes. “How foolish. Doesn't he know witches don't make bargains they can't win?”

Jaskier glares at her. He doesn't need his voice to communicate with her, she reads thoughts. _I know what you are._ Doris smiles at him beatifically and turns her gaze to Geralt. “Geralt, why don't you go secure me a room at the inn? I'll be right along.”

As soon as Geralt is out of sight, her smile turns nasty. “Did you really think I'd let you win?”

_You're cheating._

“Cheating implies there are some sort of rules, and there aren't. It isn't my fault you didn't bargain better.”

_What did you do to Geralt?_

“A simple love spell. He's infatuated with me now. But don't worry, I'm only a distraction. You can have him back after I win.”

It isn't fair. He doesn't mean to think it, but from Doris's smile, he reckons she hears it anyway.

“Fair? What's fair got to do with anything? Once I was worshiped, revered. Now I have to barter for scraps. You think that's fair?”

Jaskier thinks she deserves to be killed like all the other monsters Geralt has faced, that would be fair. Doris steps closer to him, her gaze sharp. “I have plans for you, bard. Don't worry, you may yet keep your soul.”

_What? How?_

Doris smiles. “That's for me to know. You're nothing, in the scheme of things. Just a pawn.”

Jaskier's heart pounds in his chest, dread and worry mixing together. But there's determination there too. _I can still win._

Doris tilts her head. “It's funny, you actually believe that.”

Somehow, someway, Jaskier will find a way to beat her.


End file.
